


Haircut

by geezers



Category: Football RPF
Genre: Chelsea FC, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-17
Updated: 2013-03-17
Packaged: 2017-12-05 14:25:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/724319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geezers/pseuds/geezers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A filled prompt from footballkink2</p>
<p>"Fernando Torres shaved his head. </p>
<p>So.. what's the real reason behind this decision?<br/>A lost bet? A punishment by his team mates for his lack of goals? a will to change?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Haircut

“You’re really making me do this?” Fernando asked looking in the mirror. 

He caught Juan’s sympathetic eye in the reflection before turning to look at Cesar who nodded seriously. 

“Nando, the bet was, if Barcelona lost to Real Sociedad that you would shave your hair; and if they won, I wouldn’t shave for a month.” Fernando turned away from the mirror, a pleading look in his eyes.

“I didn’t think you were serious though.” The older man ran his fingers through his hair tentatively. What he thought was There’s no way I thought Barca would lose.

Fernando knew that Juan was on his side, but out of nowhere David had appeared. “So, when’s the haircut happening Nando?” His smile was wide and bright; Fernando would’ve suspected that the Brazilian was taking pleasure in his pain if David wasn’t known for smiling almost constantly. 

“Not you as well!” Fernando huffed, wondering how he’d found out about the bet.

He didn’t even have to ask as David offered the information, “Brana told me a couple of hours ago, he said that because Barca lost that you were going to get all your hair chopped off.” When Fernando’s mouth contorted into a grimace, David chuckled. “Don’t tell me you’re having second thoughts? You can’t back out now, hombre.”

“If Oriol was here, he wouldn’t make me do it.” Fernando said, suddenly missing his younger, more level headed fellow countryman. 

“Well…he’s not here! So, the hair goes!” Cesar said, checking his phone. “Leo is coming after dinner, so be ready!” he said, referring to the team’s hairdresser.

Juan slung a supportive arm around Fernando’s shoulder, “Don’t worry too much about it, it’s hair – it’ll grow back.” He slipped into Spanish knowing that it comforted his friend to hear his native language.

“Hey, no Spanish!” Cesar reprimanded Juan. Cesar had banned the Chelsea Spanish contingent from speaking their first language, as he was trying to improve his English. ‘If I keep speaking Spanish it won’t help me get better at English!’ he’d justified when he’d introduced the rule.

Before Fernando could even contest, Cesar had run off shouting in French to Eden down the hall. “So we can’t speak Spanish, but he can speak French? That makes no sense.” He mumbled.

The whole way through dinner, Fernando kept trying to picture himself with short hair again. His hair hadn’t been really short since his days at Atleti. 

To his left, Juan was deep in conversation with Petr, about a book? Maybe it was an album by an obscure band that they both happened to like, Fernando wasn’t sure. 

“Do you think my hair will look stupid short?” Fernando queried to David who sat on his right. To his question the curly haired man just shrugged before putting Fernando in a headlock and mussing his perfectly coiffed hair.

“You suck.” Fernando sulked.

David shrugged once more, before leaning in. “I won’t be able to do that for much longer, so I might as well make the most of it while I can!” Fernando frowned at him.

Fernando’s phone buzzed, his heart dropped when he saw that it was from Leo.

_I just got here. Where are you?_

Reluctantly, he typed out a quick reply.

_I’m eating in the restaurant. Want to come get my room key?_

Moments later, Leo replied saying he’d come and find him. After handing over his spare room key to the hairdresser, Fernando informed him that he’d be around 10 minutes.

When Fernando had finished his dinner, long before his teammates, he opted to take the stairs up to his room as opposed to the lift. 

“Hey Nando,” Leo smiled, as Fernando sat down in the seat he’d moved into the middle of the room, so it was directly under the lights. “What am I doing today? Touching up your roots and a trim, like usual?” Leo placed a gown over him, to shield his clothes from the trimmed hair.

Fernando was quiet for a second before replying. “No, I want it cut. Short.” He stopped for a moment before tacking on, “Really short.”

“Whoa, going for a new style. Any reason?”

“I lost a bet.” Fernando said, avoiding Leo’s gaze.

He heard Leo ‘oh’ in recognition. “I’ve been there before. I had to get a Mohawk in my early 20s when I lost a bet about how many Big Macs I could eat in one sitting.” Leo reminisced with a wry smile. “God, it was bloody awful. I looked like such a prick.” He laughed.

“Well, I hope I don’t look like a ‘prick’.” Fernando used air quotes, he still hadn’t quite got the hang of the British slang, despite living there for almost 5 years and having it hurled at him on the pitch on a bi-weekly basis.

Leo placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. “I’m sure you won’t. Am I wrong, or have I seen you with really short hair before?”

Fernando nodded. “When I was much younger and still played in Spain. I played some of the best games of my life at Atletico when I had short hair.” 

“Well, maybe you can rediscover the form you had in La Liga with your new haircut!”

The pair came to an agreement that they’d first dye Fernando’s hair darker, a shade of brown that was much closer to his natural colour, before the cut took place. 

Just as Leo was bringing the trimmer to cut Fernando’s hair, the device buzzing in the hairdresser’s hand, in his peripheral vision, Fernando saw people literally falling into the room. On the floor, in a heap were Juan, Cesar, David and Oscar.

“I tried to stop them!” Juan said to Fernando before he could even ask what was going on.

Cesar got up, leaving the other three on the floor. “I had to come and see the fruits of my bet.” He grinned before perching on the end of Fernando’s bed and intently watching.

Juan rolled his eyes before going to sit in his own bed. 

“I’m here…because I’m nosy.” David said without even bothering to mask his reasons for his presence.

Oscar stood by the door and wrung his hands for a second, looking thoughtful. “I here…because I no want…to be…sozinho [alone]?” Fernando breathed out a laugh, it was clear Cesar had executed his Only English Speaking rule on the Brazilian contingent as well.

“Don’t worry, come and enjoy the show.” Fernando said, his words thick with sarcasm.

Oscar sat on the end of the bed too as Leo once again brought the trimmer up to his head, cutting off his hair. As Fernando watched the locks drop to the floor, instead of feeling upset, he felt…a weight being lifted. 

“There you go, you’re a new man!” Leo declared trimming the last bit, handing him a mirror so he could see himself. 

“Looking good, Geezer!” David gave his seal of approval, clapping Fernando on the shoulder.

“Hair…good!” Oscar said again in very broken English, accompanying his statement with a thumbs up to make sure Fernando got what he said. 

“Beautiful! You should thank me for making this bet with you!” Cesar added, before the three of them left the room. 

Leo packed up his things and left, seeing as it was getting late. 

Fernando went into the bathroom and took the showerhead, rinsing the loose hair off of his head and shoulders. When he re-entered the main part of the hotel room, he saw Juan lying on his bed, with his headphones in his ear, reading something on his iPad. 

“What do you think?” Fernando said, tapping him on the shoulder.

Taking the buds out of his ears, Juan smiled. “You look great.” He moved over on his bed and patted the space next to him.

They lay next to each other, looking up at the cream ceiling.

In the midst of their comfortable silence, Juan said in a whisper, “Maybe a change is just what you needed.”


End file.
